


Lapse of Memory

by dreamversed



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: <-- tagged as such because this fic is very, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memory Loss, Open to Interpretation, like.. LOTS of flashbacks, one of which could potentially include character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 09:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19989712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamversed/pseuds/dreamversed
Summary: You and me-” Ę̵̡͢͟r͏͢҉̛r̴̛͞͠o̸̴͘͠r̴̵͘͏ hisses, dodging a blow that may well have taken out half of his skull. “You and me are nothing alike.” he sends out his own attack, a series of black and red bones aimed right at Ink. He moves to dodge, but one catches him in the ankle and he trips and he’s-“Heh.” Ink gives a wide grin when he realises his exact position, having fallen right into E̢̕r̵̸r̴͠͞o̡r̶̴͜҉’s arms. “Guess I just fell for you.”A deafening shriek rings out in the same moment Ink feels himself jolted into the air by-Something?He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember.Why doesn’t he remember-?“Ȅ̶͎̼ͤͭ̉̍̆r̷̡͉̤̳̥̮͌͛̑r̴͙͇̪̜̯̞̉̆̎͂̾̚o̡ͭ̀̽̎̆̔҉̘͈͕͓r͎͈̬̰̍ͯ̓̅̽͆͘͢, you’re blushing!”





	Lapse of Memory

Ink is forgetting something.

This on its own is nothing new; his memory has never been the best of things and he’s long grown accustomed to writing every slightly important thing on his scarf. But there’s nothing on his scarf, no reminders except for a few small smudges. All it leaves behind is a foggy kind of static over his mind. Usually when he forgets things they leave no trace behind and he has to be reminded by ~~who reminds him?~~ someone. But this thing feels almost out of reach, a haze of fuzzy images and forgotten words that he can’t quite place. Every time he thinks he has it it shifts again, into a whole new mix of _unknown_ and _empty._

Ink knows he’s forgetting something. Ink _knows_ he’s forgetting something, but-

He doesn’t know _what._

* * *

_"You and me-” Ę̵̡͢͟r͏͢҉̛r̴̛͞͠o̸̴͘͠r̴̵͘͏ hisses, dodging a blow that may well have taken out half of his skull. “You and me are_ nothing alike.” _he sends out his own attack, a series of black and red bones aimed right at Ink. He moves to dodge, but one catches him in the ankle and he trips and he’s-_

 _“Heh.” Ink gives a wide grin when he realises his exact position, having fallen right into E̢̕r̵̸r̴͠͞o̡r̶̴͜҉’s arms. “Guess I just_ fell _for you.”_

_A deafening shriek rings out in the same moment Ink feels himself jolted into the air by-_

_Something?_

_He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember._

_Why doesn’t he remember-?_

_“Ȅ̶͎̼ͤͭ̉̍̆r̷̡͉̤̳̥̮͌͛̑r̴͙͇̪̜̯̞̉̆̎͂̾̚o̡ͭ̀̽̎̆̔҉̘͈͕͓r͎͈̬̰̍ͯ̓̅̽͆͘͢, you’re blushing!”_

* * *

There’s an imbalance in the multiverse, lately.

Ink doesn’t know why ~~doesn’t remember doesn’t remember~~ but it’s had everything knocked off axis for far too long. He’s searched, has gone to every AU three times over and still nothing seems _wrong._ Nothing obvious, at least, but Ink _knows_ this place and no shortage of memory problems ~~it’s not just that though, is it?~~ will stop him doing his job.

So, he keeps looking. He searches the Doodle Sphere too many times to remember, ~~why can’t he remember?~~ see if there are somehow any stray bits of paper floating around. But there are none. Everything is in perfect shape, completely unharmed- and Ink realises, slowly, that this is the problem. 

Creation is something Ink has and always will adore; it’s quite literally what he lives for. Seeing these AUs born out of a few stray scribbles into something more, into sprawling empires and grand fairytales… it’s all Ink knows to cherish them, to watch each grow as if they were his own creation. Instinct and a good helping of selfishness tells him to _protect_ them, so he does.

But how is this protecting when Ink doesn’t even know what he’s protecting them _against?_

* * *

_“Why do you do it?”_

_Ink doesn’t know who’s talking. His mouth moves on it’s own, words lost to his own ears. The other scoffs at his reply._

_“They’re abominations-_ mistakes. _You don’t_ really _think they’re all so precious, do you?”_

_Where is he? It’s all so empty. Blurry. Ink thinks he’s talking._

_“Yeah- I’m being_ good _now, whatever. Doesn’t mean I can’t talk shit. I’m still meant to have that whole d͠͝e̡̛͠͠͡s̶͟t̸̸͘͢r͏̨ǫ͘͟y̢̡̡̕͜e̸͢r̢͟͜ shtick anyway._

_A bubbly sort of noise floats through the static- a laugh. Another joins it, slower, breaking in and out of time. Yet the atmosphere feels more tense than it was a few moments ago._

_“Not like I can control it, anyway.”_

_Ink looks at ~~who is he looking at?~~ him with a stare that betrays a little too much pity. _

_“We’ve been through this already, stop acting like it’s some awful tragedy.” his voice trips up, stutters. It’s… interesting. Ink could listen to it for a bit longer. “You create, I de̢̨s̴̢̢t̨͘͡r̴̕o̷̵͘y͘҉̶͜. It’s always gonna be like that.”_

_It’s silent, again. Something shifts in the air, something seems a little clearer- but what?_

_“Hey,” Ink says. “We.. we match! Like- opposites attract? It’s practically fate.”_

_And that wasn’t even that funny, but he looks at-_

_He looks at-_

_e̶͘͟͞r̡͜r̴̷̕͞o̶̷͢r̸͡͏?̡҉̷̶ ͏͜҉ȩ͡҉r̛ŗ̸̧o̶̧̕r͘̕?̷̧͜͡ ._

_And he’s_ smiling.

* * *

The imbalance turns into a feeling of pure _loss._

He hasn’t _lost_ anything. All the AUs are fine ~~and why wouldn’t they be? Who is there to harm them?~~ and things have gone off fine for as long as Ink can remember ~~but he can hardly remember anything.~~ But still, something feels missing. Ink gives up searching at this point. Whatever it is, it’s obviously not going to show itself anytime soon. So, Ink stays as he is, does his job ~~what for? Why?~~ and watches the birth of more AUs.

He watches.

And watches.

And he almost expects something- _anything_ to happen. But just.. nothing. It’s not _normal,_ though at this point Ink can’t recall what normal was. But all of this- all of this creating with ~~no- what was it?~~ nothing else wasn’t it.

Ink has a way things go, a routine every week but-

But he’s forgotten.

He seems to be doing that a lot lately.

* * *

_“Is that a…” who is that? “A timetable? An- an actual schedule?”_

_Ink is talking again. He can hardly hear himself, again. Something with a confirmation. A laugh, he thinks._

_“I mean-” his voice ~~who are you? i~~ s fading in and out, not in the cool stuttery way from earlier. “-like, Fells on Tuesdays? Nah.” _

_Very vaguely, there is a presence at Ink’s side. He longs to press into it, but some instinctual part of him tells him not to._

_“-I don’t have your nerdy-” he cuts out again. Why? Why can’t he hear him? “-I d̷̕e͟͞ş̸͏t͟͟r̢͝͞o̡̕y̴̡̨̧͜ where I want when I want.”_

_d̸̛͡ę̨̡͝s҉҉̶t̸͞r҉̨҉o̵̸y̸̕͝?_

_D.._

Destroy?

 _Creator and destroyer_ , Ink suddenly realises. It balances out, ~~_opposites attract_ ~~ fits in a way that feels actually _right._

But who destroys? He knows of Nightmare and his lot, but they don’t destroy. They kill. There is no true opposite to Ink’s creativity.

_Who are you?_

_Destroyer?_

_“..know how… hate that..” that voice again. Fading in and out, stuttering-_

Glitching.

_“..making fun of my voice..?”_

_Who are you? Who are you?_

_Glitch-?_

Ink reaches out. He tries and he tries and he tries but he can’t remember _oh god why can’t he remember?_

There must be some _destroyer,_ something to knock the world back into balance. Ink dives back into this mystery, lets himself drown in each and every false lead and fragment of the truth. Neglects everything- his duties, his friends, hell almost his _vials-_ in favour of desperately digging through the multiverse over and over. He unfolds every universe, breaks it down to it’s bare essentials and he finds-

He finds _something._

Rips and tears in the very foundation of the AUs; some small, some consuming almost the whole thing. Unnoticeable to anyone lacking these powers ~~and they’re only Ink’s, aren’t they?~~

But even with his gift, of seeing the sketches and first strokes of an AU, he can’t quite place it. Where do these come from? ~~_Who are you? Who are you? Why can’t I remember you? What is-?_~~

Something shifts, suddenly.

A world of soft brushstrokes and careful crafted stories becomes something harder, of sharp edges and lines-

Lines of-

 _“You can read_ code?” _Ink hears himself say, and is almost relieved at the sound of his own voice but oh god he can’t see he can’t see_ why can’t he see-

_“Mh..” that voice doesn’t even finish half it’s words anymore. “..teach you?”_

_“Is this just for redemption points?” he notices again that presence next to him. Now, where he can’t see- where everything is white and empty ~~so empty-~~ it feels more comforting, and this time his instincts don’t stop him from leaning toward it. _

_“..just wanna.”_

And suddenly Ink is seeing something more, digs beneath even the most basic foundations of these AUs. To the smallest details, lines of previously unread code depicting every possible scenario and outcome. But then there’s the rips; directly in the middle of those winding stories. Rips that even the code itself seems to avoid.

Ink makes some attempt at looking closer, but there’s nothing more to see. At this point he feels the beginning of anger- which he had purposefully taken much less of this morning, to avoid this exact situation- prickling at the back of his mind. He’s come this far, he’s on the edge of _something-_ he can’t just give up on this now. Because call him selfish but he doesn’t know if he can go on, knowing there are things in this multiverse that he may never understand- things that he once understood and is _forgetting._

~~_Truthfully, he would rather die than-_ ~~

Ink frowns, plucking yellow from its place on his sash and taking a few generous sips. Back onto the task at hand! He takes another long look at the code and maybe drowning out that negativity did help, because now he looks at it with a renewed sense of hope. Maybe he could do this, after all!

Readying himself (though for what he doesn’t know) he pieces apart the area surrounding the most prominent tear in an Underswap universe. At first, it seems nothing is there, and Ink almost readies himself for disappointment but then-

He sees something. Multiple things, actually. Filling the rip is a whole cluster of- are those words?- jumbled up in a mess, constantly moving and _glitching._

_A glitch._

Feeling an odd kind of frantic excitement, Ink digs further, until he can tell what it says. Each buggy word, every line that glitches against another- they all say the same thing:

_Ę̧̧̙̜͔̝̤̕R̹͕̼̱̼̲̱͕̝͙͙̠̥̪̘̕͡Ŗ̴͏͎͕͔̘̺̲͚̹̜O҉͚̟̜̖͈̼̟̫͔̠̦͈̫͈̕͝R̸̵̞̱̼͓͓̥͎̖͍̱̦͇͓͉̣̜̕͡ͅ_

Just like that, everything falls away.

* * *

Error..

The word sounds familiar. Ink looks up at the ‘sky’ of the Doodle Sphere, as if the Creators themselves could give him the answer.

..Maybe they could? Ink occasionally gets ‘voices’ ~~he isn’t the only one is he?~~ of creators; from those simply needing feedback on an idea to those on the edge of giving up. They don’t talk to him often, for whatever reason, but he’s always had a sneaking suspicion that they can hear him, sometimes.

 _Hey, help me out here._ He thinks at the sky. The sky, of course, does nothing. _Who is Er-_

Why can’t he say it? 

_The Glitch? The Destroyer?_

That works, but the answer he gets is one he already knows; this Error ~~why can he say his name now how does he know it’s a he?~~ is the Destroyer. A glitch- _the_ Glitch.

 _Who is he?_ He tries again. _Why don’t I remember him?_

Noone replies. Nothing. Do the Creators not know? Are they just messing with him?

Ink doesn’t know. Ink doesn’t _know._

He gets a very sudden and very strong urge to kick something. But, of course, he’d had a good amount of happiness earlier, which makes it a little hard to _actually_ kick something.

So without thinking, he uncaps red and takes what is probably probably too much. Without thinking, he gulps down some blue with it as well.

He promptly throws up a vile looking mix of ink and red paint, then spends the next few hours just _screaming._ He kicks the piles of paper lying around, scatters them to the wind, rips up his own sketchbooks until they’re shreds. And all the while: _who are you, who are you, why don’t I remember you, why don’t I-_

By the end of it all, Ink sits there, curled up into a ball. Tears stream from his sockets like they have been for what must be four hours by now.

He cries and cries, yet still his questions go unanswered.

* * *

_“..friends..?”_

_Blurred. Indistinguishable messes of colour. A hand cupping his cheek._

_“..thought… were more…” Ink’s own voice. Floating away, out of reach once more. “..’course if.. wanted..”_

_The darker mess goes blue, a bright electric colour that has Ink reaching, seeking it out. He could smother himself in it._

_“..Do you?” the first thing he hears in full, and it’s soft, ever so sweet._

_“..you’re asking if… love you..?”_ love? _“I..”_

_The atmosphere feels strained, stretched thin. There’s something unsaid between them- Ink and whoever’s next to him ~~is this the Destroyer? Is this him?~~ _

_And Ink waits. He waits for his own words, he waits for the other to speak in that stuttered way of his, waits for something to_ happen _but-_

_It all ends there._

* * *

Ink thinks he might be onto something. Again.

He’s been desperately trying to figure this whole thing out ever since his.. _fit_ the other day. He had, unintentionally, damaged some AUs in his rage, ~~but was it rage?~~ and has already given himself a stern talking to. If this goes on, Ink doesn’t doubt he may have more of these incidents.

~~_He’ll go mad if he doesn’t get this soon, he knows-_ ~~

So Ink considers things. He knows a few things; this person he’s forgotten has some sort of power related to his, to have caused those odd rips. That leads on to him being some sort of Destroyer, a glitch in the system, a balance to Ink’s creativity. Finally- and the thing that Ink is most focused on- they were close, at some point.

 _Love,_ Ink remembers. He eyes the pink vial on his sash- the one he almost never takes.

See, here’s the idea; typically, when Ink takes his vials, he can associate certain emotions with other people he knows. Like; Dream is happiness, anger and hate is Nightmare and his crew.

So where does _love_ stand?

Carefully, as if afraid of it breaking, Ink removes the vial from its place. He stares at it, as if this enough would give him answers. Ink doesn’t drink the pink much for a reason; it’s strong, worryingly so, and if there is no association to anyone the emotion latches on to any random person. Which can result in.. undesirable outcomes.

But at this point he’s desperate for answers. So, Ink takes the tiniest sip from the vial, waits a moment and-

A million things at once come flooding back to him.

_A warm embrace, a hand in his. A nervous blush, wobbly, glitching laugh._

_Outertale; the stars at night, the way they silhouette the figure next to him._

_An unspoken promise not to leave, to stay curled up like this a little longer._

_A quiet kind of intimacy, almost as soft as the words whispered to him-_

_Love,_ Ink realises. He’d loved him. They’d loved eachother.

 _Where are you?_ he begs, desperate. _Who are you? Why can’t I remember you?_

_A blue blush, mouth moving, ~~mouths moving against eachother-~~ _

_“I love you,” that glitchy voice- the Destroyer- murmurs._

Something sick and dark twists in Ink’s chest.

_Again, as if on replay- “I love you.”_

_Again and again, between kisses, between years of love and longing; “I love you, I love you so much.”_

_And Ink replies every time; “I love you too.”_

That moment of flooded memories feels like forever, but after it Ink stumbles back. Wholly overwhelmed just by that small drop of _love._

Even when Ink throws up not even a few seconds later, it’s pink pink _pink_ and ever so sickeningly sweet. Drowned in _I love you_ s and hugs and held hands and-

_“Error,” Ink says. They’re in Outertale again, staring up at the sky. It’s a welcome sort of quiet. “We’re gonna be like this for a while, right? No more fighting?”_

_“Try_ forever.” _he replies, with a smile. “I’m not leaving your dumbass anytime soon.”_

_Yellow-red eyes flicker off to the side, and Ink is too caught up in his happiness to realise Error’s lying._

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i hope you enjoyed this fic, it's my first work in this fandom since about 2 years ago. it was actually really fun and i maaay have more plans to write for these two but we'll see.
> 
> if you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment! or drop your opinions in my inbox on my tumblr (@dreamversed) !


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